Villain or Victim?
by Anguished Reveries
Summary: Just a short drabble, focused on May and Coulson. Mayson if you squint, I guess. No real pairings, however. It's just kind of implied. Coulson's been watching May as if he's Hawkeye, and May knows that isn't his style- Captain America's his favorite Avenger. So why is he looking at her?


Agent May was used to constant scrutiny. People watched her, out of curiosity, or because of her infamous nickname of 'The Cavalry.' She was not, however, used to being looked at. Just looked at for the sake of being seen. No ulterior motive, no questions waiting to be asked. Being watched. Just because. Even undercover, there had been a clear reason gleaming in the eyes of the men who eyed her- lust. But this was different. This was unnerving, and it was so for a reason aside from her own preference of privacy. She was irked simply because Coulson was the one doing the watching and she has no idea why.

She waits for a reasonable amount of time, but he doesn't stop. Not since that morning, when he'd just run into the room as if the building was burning down before calming down at the sight of her stoic face. He'd found random excuses to be in the same areas of the Playground with her, and sometimes he just walked around with a file that fooled nobody. It was afternoon already, and May wanted answers.

Tapping her foot impatiently against the floor, something she usually never resorted to, May waits for Coulson to arrive in the thankfully empty lounge. There were several common areas throughout the building, and this was her favorite. Predictably, the sound of his footsteps increases in volume, and she doesn't even wait for him to have both feet through the door before asking, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

His eyes go wide, but he still doesn't avert his gaze. "Like what?"

"Like you never plan to look away."

That trademark honesty flashes in his eyes as his next words spill forth. "Because I don't."

He moves to sit on the far edge of the same couch she's on, wary of the simultaneously defensive and offensive position she was maintaining, her lithe body tensed, muscles coiled with anticipation. "Why not?"

Phil's voice drops several notches to barely stay above a whisper, and May's glad her hearing is so sharp otherwise she would not have caught the uttered phrase. "I had a nightmare."

"And I was in it?" May's tone grows soft, as if talking to a child.

He nods in response. "Villain?" Her voice regains some of its edge, her cheeks turning the lightest shade of pink, but the steel is dulled with the sorrow in her tone. So that's why he was watching her- he needed to make sure she wasn't betraying his trust _again_. God, she hated that word. There shouldn't have even been a first time for her to betray him, or even a first time for him to doubt her loyalty.

Melinda wasn't the type of person to be surprised. But his reply stuns her. "Worse." He pauses, and she wonders what could be worse that being the antagonist to his nightmare. "Victim."

Raising an eyebrow, she waits for him to continue. "You died, May. And you left me all alone."

She's stuck between melting and freezing, letting her feelings show or staying strong for him. She couldn't decide what he needed more, so he decides for her, moving across the span of the leather couch to throw his arms around her and grab her in a hug to reassure the both of them. Melinda goes rigid for the briefest of moments before returning the embrace, letting go of the breath she'd been holding throughout the entire conversation as she allows herself to relax in his arms. "Don't leave me, Melinda."

"I promise, Phil. Nothing can take me away from you." She wouldn't allow herself to die until he was already gone. Then, and only then, would she ever let go of the Cavalry and stop fighting. Until then? She was going to kick some serious ass.

And the two of them stay like that, neither of them willing to release the other. They shift slightly, moving to end up with Melinda on her back against the couch, her neck propped up with one of the pillows as her hair splayed out over the armrest, Phil semi-lying on top of her, his head nestled slightly below her breasts to lay on her stomach, which was softer than most people would think. Their fingers were laced together at her side, and they fall asleep like that, taking comfort in the solid presence of the other; two people who depended on each other in such a way that made them uniquely dangerous.

Skye walks in on the slumbering couple, expecting to find them, but not to find them like that. But she holds her tongue as they awaken at the smell of coffee and finally relinquish their grips on each other to accept the mugs of the invigorating liquid that she offers.

As soon as the caffeine hits her system, May's up and gone, probably to do her tai chi in the gym, and Skye knows she should soon follow because May was still teaching her the really cool technique she refused to stop calling 'Hate Fu.' But before she goes, she turns. Narrowing her eyes at Coulson. "Hey, AC?"

"Yeah?"

"You aren't going to tell me why you guys were-"

"Nope."

She nods, pressing her lips together in a quick line before smiling. "Right. Good talk, AC, good talk."

Skye's got a foot out the door when she realizes yet another thing. "Hey... Does the whole 'director' thing mean I have to call you DC now?"

They both wince at the absolute horror of the name and Skye shudders before walking off, mentally slapping herself to dispel the remembrance that she's let those words slip through her lips.

When she and May meet at the gym, the super-agent's mask in firmly in place, Skye knows she won't get anything from her. But she asks, nonetheless. "So, what happened last night?"

To her genuine surprise, she replies. "Coulson had a nightmare the night before last. I made sure it wouldn't happen again."

She's mid- 'aw' when May cuts her off with a threat. "I'll break every bone in your body if you finish that word."

And so she complies, but her huge grin remains plastered on her face as May shakes her head with disbelief.


End file.
